


show the world its shame

by Aslee



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Diary/Journal, M/M, Other, v original i know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 10:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aslee/pseuds/Aslee
Summary: "Neya, if you're reading this, this is entirely your fault.To everyone else who might happen upon this in the years to come, my apologies about the rough words. I was never much good with words. That's why I have a sword, you see. It does most of the talking for me. I'd personally be just fine with keeping things that way, but Varric says that one day people will want to know what the Herald of Andraste was thinking.Honestly, though. Fuck the Herald of Andraste. They don't exist.  I don't know who was in that rift, but it definitely was not Andraste. And I certainly haven't Heralded anything, except perhaps that shemlens are crazy and are going to start a holy war. "





	show the world its shame

**Author's Note:**

> so i decided to do to the not-so-original idea of writing a diary for my canon Inquisitor just because. Well. I love him a lot. Also, I really needed something simple to write in the mornings as a warm-up that wouldn't accidentally spiral into a multi-chapter fic. So I take notes and outline a chapter while I play, and then write it a little at a time. As I said, it's not going to be groundbreaking or nothing you haven't seen/played before, but hopefully, it will be well written, at least.

8440 FA  
Wintermarch 15 

Neya, if you're reading this, this is entirely your fault. 

To everyone else who might happen upon this in the years to come, my apologies about the rough words. I was never much good with words. That's why I have a sword, you see. It does most of the talking for me. I'd personally be just fine with keeping things that way, but Varric says that one day people will want to know what the Herald of Andraste was thinking. 

Honestly, though. Fuck the Herald of Andraste. They don't exist. I don't know who was in that rift, but it definitely was not Andraste. And I certainly haven't Heralded anything, except perhaps that shemlens are crazy and are going to start a holy war. 

Except for Josephine. She's perhaps the most terrifying of them all, but she can stay. 

I have a name, by the way. Varric, you can cut the rest of this out of your story, but if people are going to keep talking about all this after I'm dead, then I'd like them to know who I am. My name is Wilde Lavellan. Not exactly traditional, but certainly less of a mouthful, eh? 

God, I don't even know what you want from me. You just threw this notebook at me, told me it was for posterity, and stomped back out into the snow. I'm three pints in, absolutely exhausted, and you want me to write historical documents? 

How's this for a revelation: I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing. I basically just do whatever Cassandra tells me to, how Solas tells me to, and hope everything works out the way it's supposed to. That's working out pretty well, but the Breach still hangs in the sky, and neither of them seems to have any idea of how to close it for good. Well, that's not exactly right. Cassandra thinks we should get the mages to lend me their magic, Cullen thinks we need to get the Templars to suppress it, and Leliana thinks it doesn't matter what we do, as long as I get out there and knock a few heads together. 

Again: Shems are fucking crazy. 

But I have to keep doing this. Shemlens aren't the only people who will suffer when the demons come. All I can think about is my clan, trying to survive in a world overrun by wraiths and pride demons and those tall, long assholes. All I want to do is go home, but without me the Inquisition has nothing. Whining about it won't change that. 

Even though the entire plan hinges on a new part of me, I still don't feel like I'm doing enough. The Council has let me make a few decisions, far more than I probably should be making, honestly, but I'm not really qualified to run anything. I'm no diplomat or commander. I'm a hunter, at best a middling spy, and there's really, "Herald" doesn't have much to its job description.  
Luckily, every war has work that needs doing. I've spent most of my time since closing the Breach just wandering around in the woods, picking herbs and hunting meat. It's what I'm used to, what I'm good at, and most of the people in Haven are either too busy to run errands or too scared to leave their homes. Can't exactly blame them for that, but armies have to eat and potions need to be made, so I fill in where I can. Everyone in shorthanded, so no one ever objects. They all seem gruff at first, angry at what's happened, but even when I could blame them for still hating me, they're... kind. Even before they sort out who I am. 

Hell, I help out for a day or two in the forges, and Harritt offers to teach me how to make my own custom armour. Says I have a 'knack' for it. I've never worn plate like this before, and he just gives it away for free. As a thank you. 

Shemlen are crazy. 

Still, I see why the people in the stories yearn for a life like this. If I didn't have the title of Herald hanging over my head, I could get used to this. I love my clan and the life I've led until now. I wouldn't give my family or my culture up for anything except the end of the world, but there is something so satisfying about this peace in this place. 

I wonder what history will say about the elven Herald who daydreamed about being a simple human soldier. 

It's all to end soon enough, anyway. Cassandra has been busy reaching out to the few Chantry contacts she has left alive, and apparently, there is one Mother that doesn't want to see me dead. We're to head to the Hinterlands immediately to speak with her, along with Varric and Solas, and see if she'll join up. I don't know how to feel about recruiting an old woman to war, especially one who is already doing so much to help the refugees pushed out of the mountains by the Templar-Mage battles. I like even less the idea of doing it under false pretenses, as some kind of religious figure that holds sway over her. 

Well. 

At least the damn Mark doesn't hurt anymore.


End file.
